


His Master

by Balenae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Grief/Mourning, I think I found weird, I tried for sad, M/M, Memory Loss, Pining, Role Reversal, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-13 02:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9102688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balenae/pseuds/Balenae
Summary: Master Genji teaches his student Zenyatta at Shambali Temple in Nepal.And yet…And yet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The less said about this one maybe the better. 
> 
> I've been sitting on this for a very, very long time, trying to dredge up the nerve to post it. Massive thanks to my beta Cloud-Song for picking out mistakes, making helpful comments, and just generally kicking me in the pants.

“Master!” 

Genji looked up from where he meditated at the overlook near the shrine, the cold Nepalese wind ruffling the white scarf attached the back of his helmet, enhanced eyesight beneath the golden glimmer of his visor easily picking out the familiar form of the Omnic walking towards him. “I thought you had cleaning duty with some of the other students?”

“One of the human students caught a barwing that flew in and managed to convince Master Hondatta it was bad luck before letting it loose in the temple. We do not have to be there tonight while they catch it.”

Genji sighed, “Not very honest of you.”

“I was not the one who did it, Master. I simply thought to take advantage of the fortuitous outcome to come see you. I do not usually get the chance on Tuesdays.”

The ninja smiled beneath his helmet a bit, “I would like that very much. However I don’t think this will play out the way you believe it will.”

The Omnic’s shoulder sagged a bit, “Will it not?”

Genji shifted his attention to where another member of the Shambali was hurrying over, “Master Genji! I am sorry to disturb your meditation, but there is a bird loose in the main temple. We were wondering if you could catch it, since you are very nimble.”

Genji shifted his attention to the Omnic student pointedly, who wilted further, “I will solve your bird problem for you, Hondatta. Give me a moment, and I will be along.”

Hondatta bowed, and turned to head back. Genji stood, adjusting his white-and-gray kasaya garments, the material whispering sensation over his white-and-silver cybernetics, and laid a hand on his student’s shoulder, “This should be fast. I will return when I’m finished. Wait for me here.”

The Omnic perked up and nodded, “I will, Master.”

“I want to see you meditating when I get back,” Genji called back as he walked towards the temple. “I mean it, Zenyatta!”

\--

Genji caught the bird and released it outside, climbing the walls with ease to where it was hiding in the ceiling. He shrugged off Hondatta’s gratitude, and hurried back out to the overlook as quickly as he could without _looking_ like he was rushing. He glanced around, eyes alighting on the gleaming form of his student, sitting in the over-bright Himalayan sunlight, curled in lotus position, and Genji’s heart stuttered and _ached_ at the sight. 

His feet slowed to a stop and for a long moment, he just took it in, pretending for a moment he was in another time and place. 

He shook his head—it was not the time for that—and walked over. 

The nine lights on Zenyatta’s forehead blinked and lit with a steady glow as his awareness came back, tilting his head to find Genji, whole form perking up, “You are back sooner than I expected.”

“Fortunately a small bird was no match for your old Master,” he took a seat next to Zenyatta.

“You are not that old,” Zenyatta said, laughing softly.

“Fifteen years older than you,” he said and winced as soon as he had.

Zenyatta tilted his head, growing quiet, one hand reaching up to lightly touch the nine lights on his crown, “That is true. I forgot for a moment that I am—“ His words faltered briefly, the speechlessness so very strange, “I forget things sometimes.”

“I am sorry I said anything,” He said gently, “let us not waste this surprise afternoon together on dark thoughts. Here and now, as I so often tell you. Here and now.”

Zenyatta nodded, “As long as you do not have other duties I would pry you from, Master?”

Genji reached over and squeezed the Omnic’s shoulder, “there is nothing that would be more important than spending an afternoon with you.” He felt proud as his student visibly beamed without any expression, the joy carried all in how he held himself. “I was hoping perhaps we could begin by meditating together.”

Zenyatta slumped faintly, clearly not what he’d had in mind but nodded, “I would like that very much, Master.”

“Center yourself, my student, and embrace Tranquility,” Genji murmured, bringing his hand up to his chest, thumb and forefinger extended. Zenyatta nodded and rested his forearms on his knees, palms up, thumb lightly touching the tip of his middle finger.

Genji held perfectly still, his running lights dimming, but was not meditating in truth. His attention was focused completely on his Omnic student, watching, waiting to see if it would happen—

Yes, _there_ —

The sensors on Zenyatta’s palms glowed a pale blue, the nine lights of his crown going brighter as he settled deeper into the calm and tranquil state. His Omnic energy was stronger now than it had been. Visibly so after years of dedication and study.

For the first time, Genji felt like there might actually be a bit of _hope_ —

In his mind’s eye he saw light, a flicker of blue and a golden glow.

_He wished—_

Zenyatta shifted restlessly and though he made not a sound, he was clearly unsettled, his mind elsewhere and unfocused. Genji picked up faint movement writ through his body, the twitch of his fingers, the slightest of adjustments in posture from the pistons in his neck and torso, his form imperfect. 

“Perhaps meditation isn’t to your interest today.”

Zenyatta sagged a bit, caught out. “I am sorry, Master. My mind is elsewhere.”

“I can tell. What are you thinking of that keeps you from your meditation?”

“You, Master,” Zenyatta answered almost thoughtlessly and Genji stiffened, his heart stuttering and beating madly within his chest at the words. Zenyatta then scrambled onward, as if realizing what he said, “I mean to say I was thinking about what you do, Master,” He tried. “You are so capable and accomplished; I had been hoping to spend the afternoon differently.” His body language was so hopeful, than Genji knew he was going to humor him even as he tried to get his emotions back under his control.

He was a Master swordsman and a Master Monk of the Shambali order; he was supposed to be better than this. _He’d_ always made it look so easy—

“What did you have in mind then, hmm?”

“I was hoping today you might assist me in combat training, Master.”

Genji sighed, he should’ve known, “Zenyatta…”

“Please, Master Genji?” his student leaned forward, entreating, and it was almost more than the cyborg could bear, “I know you have been reluctant to teach this to me, but surely you can see it would be a boon to know how to defend myself? As you say so often, the world is a dangerous place.”

Genji rubbed the groove between his facemask and his forehead in exasperation, “Where did you get all this combat nonsense in your head from anyway? Why would you want to learn to be destructive? You’re training to be a monk.”

Zenyatta was quiet a moment, “Because of you, Master. You are a monk, yet you train, you fight. You see the value in it. Besides, I know I—” He trailed off a bit again, searching for the right words to express himself, “I know that I must have known something of it, _before_.”

Genji was quiet a long moment, “When I was learning to master my own body and soul, my teacher told me to be true to myself, and that meant mastering the violence in my soul, not ignoring it or smothering it, killing a part of myself. But you, Zenyatta, you have no violence in your soul, no malice.” His hand slid up to the Omnic’s collar, thumb stroking along the gold line of his jaw before he could think better of it. “There is no reason for you to fight, and invite that darkness in. While it is true, you knew something of it before, you do not have to do the same thing now.”

Zenyatta seemed to think on this, leaning faintly into his hand, almost unconsciously, “Whatever may have been true before, this is true now. Perhaps I have less darkness than you, Master. But life is balance, peace and violence in equal measure. How can I be ready to meet it out in the world if I do not first learn it from a figure I trust?”

“You would not rather stay here in the monastery and practice your mastery and wisdom of the Iris?”

“Of course not, Master. What good could I do for humans and Omnics if I were stuck here forever?”

“Of course not,” Genji echoed, and sighed, hands fisting. “…Very well. _But_ ,” He continued, steamrolling the enthusiastic Omnic, “You will obey my every word, promise me, Zenyatta. I do not wish to damage you.”

“I promise, Master, thank you.”

He nodded, and stood up, Zenyatta following suit, “You may be the most promising student at the monastery, but this isn’t something you necessarily have experience with. As you said, whatever may have been is not what is true now. It may not be something you take to well.” Genji wasn’t sure how he wanted this to go, for his dear student to be abysmal offensively, to have a reason to stay _safe_ , or to see him excel like he always did, like Genji always wanted. To see him fight, just like—

He shook his head, he had to stop this. For Zenyatta’s sake. 

“Will you go and get your katana?” The Omnic asked, hopeful and Genji shook his head. 

“No. You are unarmed, and my control with a blade is great, but I will not risk the harm to you. We will spar hand-to-hand.”

Fortunately Zenyatta nodded and did not push the issue, “Thank you for the chance.”

“I am going to regret this,” Genji muttered and Zenyatta chuckled softly. 

“Only because I am going to be right,” he said and shifted into an offensive stance.

Genji huffed a sigh, but Zenyatta’s form was nearly flawless for never having done this before. What he got for letting a machine with perfect technical recall watch him train so often. He should’ve known it would bite him in the ass, “You’re always right, Zenyatta, as I always tell you. I don’t know why I even bother teaching you anymore, you don’t need my words very often.”

“That is hardly true,” Zenyatta protested, “Intuiting answers is no substitution for actual experience, and I value all of your input greatly. Please do not doubt your influence.”

Genji smiled beneath his visor, chest aching. _Oh Zenyatta_ , he thought, _you have no idea_. 

Aloud, he said, “If I need to stop I will do so immediately, but if I misjudge and you need to call a halt then you need to say so. You say stop and this all stops.”

“I will be fine, Master Genji,” Zenyatta said warmly, “I cannot imagine you misjudging anything.”

Genji’s heart clenched painfully, “Everyone has made mistakes, Zenyatta. Now, combat is a lot like meditation. Control is key, you must focus on the here and now, and keep your thoughts ordered. You must keep your body under control, the difference is that it will be in motion instead of still, and to add to it you must attempt to anticipate your opponent’s strikes and movements as well. But many of the core thoughts and ideologies are the same. Control, it is always about control, but it is also about letting go. You trust yourself and your body. You won’t have muscle memory, but Omnics should still retain impulse pathways of remembered motion.”

Zenyatta nodded, “I understand. I wish to try.”

Genji nodded, “Then whenever you are ready, you may come for me, Zenyatta.”

Zenyatta shifted on his feet, as if feeling his weight and his bearing, which was a silly thing for a machine to do, but _this_ machine had always done things a bit differently. A wonderful, _perfect_ oddity. He was _quick_ too, striking out at Genji faster than any human novice would, but Genji was as much a machine as a man, and blocked, catching the blow on his forearm and grabbing and _twisting_.

Between one second and the next Zenyatta was sprawled on the stone.

“Not bad for a beginner,” Genji teased.

“Hmm,” The Omnic made a soft sound of consideration, “I see what you mean about trusting your body. This is faster than the mind may consider.”

“The human mind, but you are not a human. You will pick this up much faster than one. Learn from my movements, calculate and predict,” Genji instructed, “Give me your arm, I will go through this slowly, show you what I did.”

Zenyatta stood and held out his arm, trusting his teacher deeply and offering no hesitation. Genji’s chest tightened with feeling but he lifted his own, “See, I blocked you like this, and while I had your arm close to my body it was a simple matter to grasp,” he demonstrated, mimicking his earlier grip, “And with the right leverage,” he tugged against the Omnic’s metal limb but did not toss him this time, “You see?”

“I do. Please, may I try again?”

Genji nodded, “Yes, again!”

Zenyatta was again knocked down twice more and twice more Genji showed him how he countered his movements. 

By the fourth time Zenyatta struck at Genji, Genji could no longer knock him over. 

Zenyatta learned _fast_. He always had. 

Perhaps it wasn’t learning, a traitorous thought in his mind hoped, perhaps he’s—

No, he wouldn’t do that to himself. 

He caught Zenyatta’s blows as the Omnic’s strikes came, the two of them nearly dancing across the overlook, letting him do all the offensive movement, content to simply counter him. “Master, I can tell you are distracted,” Zenyatta said, the words sharp, though not with anger but slipping out from the stranglehold of his focus on trying to get through Genji’s effortless defense. “Am I so easy to counter you that do not even need to pay attention to me?”

“You are just beginning,” Genji said, gripping one of the Omnic’s strikes and trying to knock him over again, but Zenyatta shifted his weight and twisted free, resisting the attempt, “You are doing well for a beginner, but you are a novice, and to my body these motions come as easily and unconsciously as breathing.”

“You think I could not take you by surprise,” Zenyatta struck low this time, and Genji caught one with a knee and the other with the outside of his forearm. 

“You always surprise me, Zenyatta,” he allowed, laughing quietly at how _determined_ he was. 

“I will have to try harder then,” he struck high again, _predictable_ , and Genji blocked, the Omnic then went low. Genji moved to defend against this as well Zenyatta pulled back, _a feint_ , and then leapt and kicked out with his leg. 

Always a surprise, his student. 

But Genji had always been good at dealing with the unexpected. 

He ducked and grabbed the leg out of the air and twisted, intending to lay him flat again, swinging him down.

There was a _pulse_ of Omnic energy and suddenly Genji could not move him.

“Master!” Zenyatta floated haphazardly in the air, surprising even himself and Genji let him go as if burned and stepped back, the student shifting and righting himself, floating easily for a moment longer and then touching down gently. “I was floating,” He murmured, awed, “Did you see it, Master Genji?”

Genji for his part could not seem to find the voice for words, and was staring openly beneath his visor. His chest was a knot of feeling and his mind churned with turmoil. He untangled it as best he could, as Zenyatta was clearly awaiting a response.

_You brought this upon yourself_ , he thought cruelly.

“I did, Zenyatta, that was amazing. Your energy is strong to be able to support yourself. What were you… thinking about?”

Zenyatta tilted his head, “You, Master Genji. But I was feeling…” he grew quite a moment, considering. “It was… well, I suppose not instinct or muscle memory, but I did it without thinking. _Automatic_ ,” he said, finding the word for it, “It was automatic.”

Genji’s hands clenched once, and then released, “I see.” He drew a long breath and sighed, “Training is over.”

“But—“

“Come with me,” He said, before he could change his mind, “There is something I need to give you.”

\--

Genji led Zenyatta to his room in the monastery. His katana and wakizashi rested on their stands to the side. Along the wall was a mural from his hometown of Hanamura, and in the corner was a mattress covered with a few blankets. Atop a small chest of drawers were several framed photographs, one of he and his brother Hanzo as young men back when he was whole, another of his team in the early days of Overwatch, and the last was he and his brother more recently, taken just four short years ago. It was a mess of a picture, too much movement, Genji was still, his cybernetics white and off-brown and his running lights dark, but Hanzo, hair starting to silver as he approached middle age, bound in a small tail by golden ribbon, was clearly fussing at something off-camera, face a grimace of annoyance, half his body slightly blurred as he moved to something off to the right where one mechanical arm with a stylized skull on the forearm and blue hydraulic hoses visible, had reached into the picture from elsewhere. At the top right corner of the picture there was a single mechanical finger of the photographer that had slipped over the lens by accident. 

It was a terrible picture, but a very good memory, so Genji had kept it. 

Beside the drawers, nearly out of sight on the floor was a small wooden chest. It had sat there, closed, for almost the entirety of Genji’s three year habitation of the small room. He went in and picked it up now, bringing it to the center of the room and holding it out to Zenyatta, “Here,” He murmured, “Open it.”

Zenyatta did, opening the lid and made a soft curious sound, reaching in to touch one metal finger gently over what he found, “What are they, Master?”

“They were yours. Before.”

“Mine?” Zenyatta sounded surprised and from within the box lifted a golden orb. “You are certain? I do not—“ He gasped as suddenly the orb in his hand lit up, the rings along its outside lighting blue. 

“I am positive,” Genji murmured, voice low, “These were yours. They recognize you, as your energy recognizes them.”

“I do not _remember_ ,” Zenyatta murmured unhappily. 

“Perhaps not, but I think it time I returned them to you. Perhaps it was not my place to keep them from you at all, but—“

“No,” Zenyatta shook his head, watching in awe as the orb began to float in a wobbly orbit, “Thank you, Master. Thank you for taking such care of them. I will do my best to be worthy.”

“It is not about being worthy,” Genji said, voice firm. “They are yours. There is no one else they could ever belong to. Do not worry about being worthy of them. Only be yourself, and that is all that matters.”

Zenyatta nodded, but when he spoke he was unhappy, “I do not remember.”

“You do not have to,” Genji murmured, chest hurting, knotted with his own wishes. 

“I will have to practice with them,” Zenyatta said, determination bouncing back, like he always did. “I would like to show your Overwatch friends, if I can master them. Oh, and your brother, when he visits.”

“I am,” Genji struggled behind his visor for a moment, “I am sure they would all love to see.”

\--

Genji only needed a few hours of hibernation to keep his internal computers running optimally per night, to recharge the cells that powered his augmented flesh, and usually spent the rest of the long Himalayan nights meditating quietly in his room until just before dawn, when he would move outside to the Eastern Overlook. 

He’d finished his hibernation some hours ago and had been meditating in the absolute silence of the mountains, legs folded in a perfect lotus position, one hand before him at chest level, index finger and thumb extended, but a sound had him slipping from the stillness of his mind. The gold of his visor blinked on, his running lights flickering ochre in the darkness. 

He had thought this might happen, having given his student back the orbs, and waited for the quiet call he knew would come. 

Sure enough moments later there was a soft, hesitant, “Master?” From outside the curtain to his room. 

“Come in, Zenyatta,” The curtain shifted and the Omnic stepped inside, his body language bleeding uncertainty, even though this was hardly the first time this had happened. Genji noted the three orbs that already circled slowly in the air around him, constantly held by his control of his energy. He always learned so fast. “Did you have another dream?”

Zenyatta nodded, “I did, Master. I am sorry to disturb you.”

Genji nodded and beckoned, “Come here then.”

Zenyatta didn’t have to be told twice, having come here in the small hours of the morning after certain dreams to seek comfort many times over the years. He climbed onto the mattress next to Genji and sat stiffly, and the cyborg sighed a bit and reached out, wrapping an arm around the slight Omnic and dragging close. Zenyatta didn’t have an issue coming to seek out his Master’s comfort in the middle of the night or even joining him on his bed, but he never seemed to be able to take that last step without Genji initiating. 

Slowly, the tension bled out of his student’s mechanical limbs and he sagged against Genji, his head dropping to lie upon the cyborg’s shoulder and his arms reached to hold around him, as though he might drift away.

Genji wrapped his arms around Zenyatta tightly, offering comfort, giving away nothing of the feelings he held within. He was in purgatory in these moments, caught between heaven and hell, staring up a mountain of sins that seemed insurmountable, and no one to guide his way. 

“I am sorry I always disturb you like this, Master,” Zenyatta murmured, apologetic like he always was.

“Tell me about your dream,” Genji said instead, voice soft, _needing_ to hear, even if it added sins to his head, one hand coming to rest across the broadest part of the Omnic’s back. 

“I dreamt,” His voice faltered, “I dreamt about another Omnic, one I had never seen before.”

“Another Omnic?” Genji begin hesitantly, the subject not being what he expected, and yet at the same time there was a part of him that desperately hoped it wasn’t the only thing he could think of. “Who was it? What did they look like?”

“He,” Zenyatta considered, “He had a white face.”

Genji’s eyes closed beneath his visor, throat bobbing. “Mondatta,” he said quietly, “His name was Tekhartha Mondatta.”

“Mondatta,” The name held a degree of recognition, “Another fragment of memory then,” He said softly, as if the dreams that drove him out of his own room to seek solace in Genji’s could be anything else. “It was all so disconnected. I only saw that white face for a moment. He wore a kasaya like yours and the other monks’, and his hands were folded behind his back. I think he was standing and looking out over the mountains, but then sometimes it seemed like he was falling. There was cool, distant laughter and I felt such a profound sense of loss.” 

“I know you students are probably told ad nauseum that Mondatta founded the order, but you probably don’t hear a lot about the person he was.” Genji told him, “He was wise, and patient, if a bit distant at times, but he tried to do the best he could for all people, and gave of himself in his entirety.”

“He was assassinated,” Zenyatta murmured from somewhere against Genji’s collar, remembering what he had been taught.

“That’s right.”

“Were we friends?”

“Yes,” Genji whispered, “The best. You disagreed, took different paths eventually, but you were always friends. He was your teacher first and I hope I am doing at least a fraction of what he taught you.” 

“He was? But, you said you were trying to give me back what I lost, Master, I thought you were—“

“No,” Genji murmured, heart aching, “That is… that is not how we met. I… arrived later.”

“Was he your teacher as well?” Zenyatta wondered.

“No, but he and my teacher were close before his death. They were brothers, in a sense that transcended blood,” Genji said, hand petting along the exposed parts of the Omnic’s back a bit helplessly.

Zenyatta could feel only the slightest of pressure from Genji’s touch but sighed softly and seemed to press closer all the same, “He must have been an amazing leader.”

“Mondatta taught you the truth of the Iris. Originally it was he who helped you cultivate your mastery of your Omnic energy, until finally you surpassed him.” He reached up fingers tapping lightly against one of the suspended orbs to illustrate.

“I wish I remembered him,” Zenyatta said, sad, “I wish I could have the chance to speak with him.”

“I do as well,” Genji whispered and held him tighter, closing his eyes and wanting, heart mourning for this Omnic in his arms. “I wish it with all my heart and soul, Zenyatta.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!

Genji watched from one of the upper levels of the Monastery as his student stood down on the terrace below. It had been a week and even now, Zenyatta floated gently, practicing with his control over his energy and Omnic orbs—all nine of them. 

He was beautiful in the sunlight, all blue light and silver chrome, shining like a beacon of hope, and Genji’s eyes drifted towards him helplessly as though trapped by some magnetism. Though Zenyatta’s mind only grasped fragments, there was some part of him that innately seemed to remember these orbs, and he worked and wove them through the air with sharper precision and better control with every hour that passed. Another week, Genji would wager, and he would have the same control of them that he’d used to. 

Genji was so _proud_ of him, so _happy_ for him, and he didn’t think there was anything that could possibly hurt him worse than the sight. 

“You are hardly listening to me,” Kaiyatta said, her tone laced with amusement and Genji startled. He had been distracted, watching, and had forgotten he had been amidst a discussion with one of his Shambali sisters.

“My apologies, Kaiyatta, I was—“

“You were watching him, as you always do,” She said, no irritation to be found. “I have taken no offense, Master Genji. After three years we know how he draws your eye. We remember how he used to before as well.” She grew quiet and the two of them studied the Omnic below. “It is remarkable. I had never thought to see him weave those orbs again. It is miraculous, you have done something I thought impossible.”

“I do not think that is true,” Genji murmured, tone subdued, “Most of it has come easily to him. I know that Omnics have no subconscious, but having seen the way he takes to this, the way he has taken to all of it, I cannot help but wonder if there is not some innate piece of him that _remembers_.”

“Perhaps in some way, perhaps something that you managed to save,” Kaiyatta allowed. “But if that were true, Master Genji, I cannot help but think he would remember _you_ of all things.”

“Do not,” Genji said, voice low and rough.

“I did not mean disrespect, but after everything you have given up to be here I just wish—“ She trailed off, “He loves you. I can see it plain as day when he looks at you. As though you were the one that hung the moon—”

_“Stop,”_ Genji snapped, voice sharp, sharper than Kaiyatta really deserved.

She bowed her head, “My apologies, I have overstepped.”

Genji sighed, reeling back his anger, a familiar admonishment for it from years ago ringing in his mind like bells, “No, I am sorry. It is a difficult subject. Especially now, seeing him progress so. Please, let us continue what we were speaking of. I believe you were telling me about your erosion concerns and Shambali temple?”

Kaiyatta nodded, perking up a bit, “Yes, of course. I just have some nervousness about the southern side of the slope just there—“

\--

“You are quite good at that,” Genji said, joining Zenyatta on the terrace below as the afternoon wore thin through the hours.

The Omnic shifted where he floated to face him, still working his orbs into patterns in the air. At first, when Genji had taken over his instruction, he seemed to surprise Zenyatta often, his quiet footsteps taking the Omnic unawares. These days he didn’t startle at all anymore, as unsurprised by Genji’s appearances as he was by the sun rising. 

“Thank you, Master,” Zenyatta said, “It feels good in a way to do this. A little like an intense meditation, focusing, forming, at once controlling the shape and movement but at the same time trying to be open to what they want to do.”

“I am glad you have taken to it so, just be sure not to neglect your usual studies.”

Zenyatta nodded, bringing the swirling loop of orbs to a slow, careful orbit, and setting his feet firmly on the stone terrace. “I have not, Master. I have done my best to keep all your teachings in mind.”

“Dedicated and diligent as ever,” Genji teased, “I don’t suppose you have any time left for me, then?”

Zenyatta perked up, “I always have time for you, Master. I am always surprised and grateful you make such time for me. I know you have other teaching duties, and you need to take time for your own meditation and reflection, not to mention your physical training.”

“Most of my teaching these days is the children in the village. Other than them you’re the only one subjected to me on a constant basis.”

Zenyatta laughed, an easy, happy sound that did something soft and fluttery in the space of Genji’s chest, “You always make it sound like such a chore, Master, but I can think of nothing I would rather be doing.”

Genji smiled behind his visor, “Come then, walk with me, my student.”

Zenyatta nodded and walked over, his orbs tumbling slowly about his shoulders, gleaming in the sun. How much concentration did such a simple action take, Genji couldn’t help but wonder. How much of what looked so unconscious was actually an expression of will. “Was there something on your mind?”

“Kaiyatta and I were just admiring you work with your orbs a bit ago,” He said, “I simply wanted,” he hesitated here, “It has been a week, and I only wanted to know how you were feeling.”

Zenyatta nodded, chin dropping a bit, “Having the orbs to work with helps. It is a good distraction, and a productive one, I feel. But sometimes I catch sight of one of the statues in a certain light and the pale stone appears as though white. A bit of memory will tickle at my peripherals again and I feel that sense of loss all over. I have not felt grief like this before.” He sighed, “Not that I remember.”

“When Mondatta died you took it very hard. You did not speak to me for a whole week, and I was… incredibly worried—“ absolutely _terrified,_ “—for your well-being. I had never seen you mourn before. We traveled and visited his memorial in Kings Row, England, which had become something of a Mecca for Omnic Civil Rights activists, following the tragedy. We met many who mourned as well and sympathized with the agony you felt. That we both felt, at his loss. I think it was good for you, to be able to share that feeling. You opened up to me again, after that.”

“I did not,” Zenyatta hesitated, and this was something that he had never done before—well, before, this loss of words that seemed to strike him at times. He had never been so hesitant with his speech previously. “I did not hurt you did I? Did not take my sadness out on you?” His hands wrung a bit, a tic of nervousness that was not new, but rarely seen, “People should support each other in grief, and I would hate to think that I let my internal pain reflect at you.”

Genji stopped, reaching out to lay a hand on Zenyatta’s shoulder, “Never. I worried for you terribly for a little while, but afterward we helped each other heal and go forward. I cannot imagine anything that would ever have made you reflect badly to me. But even if you had, it is not for you to worry about now.”

“The events of another life,” Zenyatta said, sad, “But it was my life all the same. Whatever it may have been, I wish I could get it back.”

Genji’s eyes closed, “I do as well, Zenyatta. More than anything.” He squeezed, “No more of these melancholy thoughts. How about instead I tell you about Tekhartha Mondatta the way he would have wanted to be remembered? In his life and at his greatest?”

Zenyatta nodded, “I would like that very much, Master.”

\--

The Himalayas were majestic, silent and still, steady and almost eternal. They were a universal constant for Shambali temple and the village, and a source of constant peace and a reminder of deep and abiding truths that the world offered. The mountains stood against the tests of time and climbed higher. ‘Abide and endure like the mountains’ was often a piece of advice given to novice monks who came to study.

And yet, at times, the mountains could be unpredictable, their faces so often unchanging, but on occasion so dangerously fickle.

Kaiyatta had been right to be concerned about the southern face.

Sometimes the eternal mountains changed for no other reason than time.

A stone shifted on ridge above the temple and village. One of the children in Genji’s morning class saw the peak shift from where they sat on the terrace, a plume of ice from moving stones lifting into the air like a smoke signal. He cried out and pointed and Genji felt his internal fluid run cold as glacial ice. It was a warning, for now, from the spires of stone. The peak of the mountain was loose and would fall with the slightest provocation, but not yet. “Zenyatta!” He whipped around, calling, his student already rising from where he’d been seated nearby in meditation, orbs free-floating and easily controlled about him. “Take the students into the temple, let the others know, I have to get to the village. If snow on the peak goes they will be directly in its path.”

Zenyatta hesitated, clearly not wanting to leave his Master but nodded, “I will not fail you.” Genji was by far the fastest person in the temple, from the village, the fastest likely on this whole mountain. If the village were to be reached and warned, it would have to be him. And he trusted Zenyatta to take care of the children while he left. 

Genji nodded once, removing his kasaya and down to his bare cybernetics and took off, fast and quicksilver, the gold running lights flickering and vanishing in the bright day sun.

The children clamored, afraid, and Zenyatta gave them his full focus. “Come, let us go to the safety of the temple. Do not leave my side. Master Genji will make sure your families come to no harm.”

He prayed he was telling the truth.

He prayed his Master would not either.

The thought of something happening to his Master—

It did not bear thinking about.

\--

Genji urged people up the path towards the temple, keeping constant track in his head, doing continuous headcounts, trying to make sure no one had been left behind. Kumud, the eldest woman in the village was carefully carried on his back. The trek up to the temple was up a gravel switchback path, and Genji was long used to its shifting stones and worn tracks, but these people weren’t and the going was slow even as fear and panic gripped them. 

Genji also kept an eye on the peak. His advanced sensory systems detected the faintest of shifts in the earth beneath his feet. 

The mountain was losing patience.

“Hurry!” He urged them as quick as he could in a burst of Nepali, looking up at the looming pale spectacle of Shambali temple. Close now, they were close. The temple would be out of the path of an avalanche or rockslide, but even if the mountain loosed all its fury to the whims of gravity, Shambali temple was built into the recesses of the mountain, and had depths that went deep. They could seek shelter within. 

They just had to get there. 

Thank the Iris the children were already safe inside. 

The entry terrace finally stretched before them as they crested the last rise and finally made it to even ground. The statuary loomed around them, solemn and silent, only glowing faintly in their suspension. 

He heard the exhausted, relieved sounds, and several of the younger villagers rushed forward toward the temple where a few monks that had not sought shelter were coming out to help. Genji passed Kumud off to one of the village men so she could get inside, the cyborg staying out to make sure everyone got to safety. She tugged Genji’s scarf as she went and gave him a big toothless smile in thanks.

“Master!” 

He looked up in time to see Zenyatta hurrying toward him and Genji took a few steps to meet him, wanting to _go to him_ but he would not leave his post yet. He had to make sure everyone got to safety. “Then children, are they—?“

“They are safe with the others, I knew I would be better served coming to help you.”

“You should be _safe_ ,” Genji started to scold, only to be interrupted.

“I am better equipped than the other monks at least for this. I would not have left them alone, Master, but I will not be parted from you right now. I will _not_.” His face turned towards the looming threat of the peak, stubborn determination writ through his posture.

Genji wanted to be cross with him for disobeying, but the Omnic also wasn’t wrong. A familiar feeling when dealing with Zenyatta. He let his hand reach out and touch his student’s metal arm, a quick touch, affirming him, and then turn his attention back to the hurrying villagers. “Then help me get the elderly and the infirm to safety.” 

Zenyatta nodded and gestured, sending a golden orb of tumbling energy at a man hobbling forward on a wooden crutch. Genji’s throat caught at the sight, he hadn’t seen such a thing in so long—“When did you—?”

There was a loud burst of raw sound that echoed through the peaks, a crash and a roar and up on the southern slope as a torrent of snow and rock gave way and tumbled down in a heavy cascade. “There it goes!” He looked down the line but the last stragglers were making it to the top of the path now, “That’s it is everyone—“

“Master, something’s wrong up there—“

Genji whipped his head around, and cold panic suffused through him. 

The slide of snow and stone clipped against a ridge and changed direction.

It hurdled toward them with all the force of the mountain behind it.

“We’re right in its path,” He whispered and shouted, desperate, “Run!”

The face of the mountain churned, a wall of white and gray pouring down the side, the snow full of caught boulders and littered with stones. The villagers still coming tried to run but they were exhausted and terrified. Genji stood there helpless. _There was nothing he could do for them._

In those moments he looked desperately to his student, found Zenyatta, face fixed towards the terrible avalanche, frozen, drank him in. No, he thought, desperation and terror clawing his insides, _No, not again, please, not again—_

If this was the last of him than nothing mattered and Genji surged forward. He could’ve made it to safety, he was fast enough, he could outrun it.

But Zenyatta could not, and Genji would not survive losing him again.

He reached to Zenyatta, hand outstretched, tasting desperation familiar and acrid on his tongue—

Zenyatta was frozen for a moment and the stone and ice charged down.

Genji’s hand touching his arm first—

And Zenyatta _bloomed_ in a burst of golden light.

Genji gasped, feeling the light break over him like gentle waves against his rocky soul, warmth and tranquility shining like a brilliant sun against him. Zenyatta lifted into the air, arms extended—all eight of them. Six golden limbs reaching outward as if keeping the world at bay. His nine orbs glowing like stars suspended around him. The circle of brilliance enveloping the entry, surrounding he and the villagers caught outside the temple in its perfect light.

In the back of his mind a memory spoke.

_Pass into the Iris._

Genji had never thought he’d see the light of Transcendence again. That radiance the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid his eyes upon. He didn’t think the world held anything more beautiful than Zenyatta, caught within the Halo of the Iris, Transcending time, space, and suffering.

He couldn’t look away.

The avalanche hit.

Snow and stones passed around them like fleeting thoughts, he felt the whisper of cold against him, felt the passing of boulders and stones and ice and snow, but the perils and pains of the world couldn’t touch him here. Not in this perfect place of peace and understanding. Zenyatta’s invulnerable form parted the rush of snow and ice around him like a stone parts a crashing wave. He saw the villagers, safe as well in this Halo, staring at Zenyatta in awe. 

Boulders smashed into the statuary and hurtled over the edge of the terrace, snow and ice plumed in a massive cloud though the chill Himalayan air.

They had to move off the terrace before he passed from the Halo. 

Genji’s hand still rested on his arm and without even having to tug him, Zenyatta moved, his suspended form passing along. Guiding them like navigation star. The villagers moved with them, staying within the bloom of light, on the far side from the avalanche. 

Miraculously, they made it within the temple, the lingering monks gasping at the sight of Zenyatta, helping get everyone inside. Genji watched through the haze of gold as the world went white outside and the temple trembled as snow piled over the terrace and against the walls. 

The light began to fade and slowly Zenyatta passed from the Iris, his golden limbs fading, his orbs dulling down to burnished gold instead of glowing brilliance. He settled back on the ground, arms falling to his sides and stood staring vacantly ahead.

“Zenyatta?” Genji asked, worried for him, hand tightening on his arm.

Zenyatta wavered, “Gennnnnnjjjjj—“ And collapsed, orbs clattering to the ground. Genji surged forward just in time to catch him as he shut down. Drained to nothing from the effort of maintaining that metaphysical state. 

Genji held him tightly, mind still awash with the feeling of the Iris. Perfect peace causing perfect turmoil in his heart.

\--

Genji sat by his own bed, waiting, watching the prone form of Zenyatta rest upon it. He had returned the orbs to the chest while his student remained dormant. He had not moved since he’d laid the Omnic out upon the mattress, some thirty-six hours ago.

Most of the villagers were still within the temple, most of the children and the infirm and some of the younger novices. The able-bodied that were not minding the young and the elderly were out with the older monks, starting work at clearing the snow and stones away from the temple. Genji felt a bit guilty, that he was here and not out helping the others, far more physically capable than most as he was, but he was loathe to part from Zenyatta’s bedside, and no one had come for him yet.

He was sure the other monks must know where he was. They had always understood.

Later, he would thank them and apologize, and work hard enough to make up for it. 

But for now he was tethered to Zenyatta’s bedside by nothing so flimsy as a material binding. 

Zenyatta had always said that after Transcendence he had particularly vivid dreams. It always fascinated Genji to hear of them, and he had looked forward to it almost as much as seeing the Omnic reaching the pinnacle of metaphysical existence.

Sitting here now, watching the still form of his dear student, he couldn’t help but wonder what the Omnic might be dreaming of. 

He had never dared hope Zenyatta might achieve Transcendence again. He’d been taught by Mondatta the first time, an Omnic powerful enough to Transcend at will, and Genji—well, he was a different sort of teacher altogether. He had hoped somehow he might be able to guide Zenyatta close enough to grasp that radiant power, but had doubted he’d actually be able to. 

“You always surprise me,” Genji murmured. Really, he should’ve known.

When Zenyatta finally showed signs of waking from his hibernation, nearing the forty-hour mark, Genji folded his hands in his lap and waited, focused on only Zenyatta and the delicate sounds his body made as awareness returned. 

The nine lights on his head lit steady and blue and after a moment he turned his head and spotted the cyborg sitting at the bedside, “Genji.”

No title, just his name. He swallowed convulsively, “Zenyatta? Are you…? He trailed off, unsure how to ever finish the thought. 

Zenyatta struggled up to a half-sitting position and paused, one hand coming up to cup his head as though in pain or dizzy, which was an impossibility, “Genji, I,” he paused a moment before continuing. “I think I remember.”

Genji’s heart _stopped_ before it took off at a furious gallop, “Tell me,” he begged, “Tell me what you remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter will be posted Tuesday Night


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dense and heavy.
> 
> Also there's a totally inappropriate reference in there.

“Master?”

Zenyatta surfaced from his meditation, his array blinking brighter and found Genji’s faceplate peering down at him, “Ah, is it time now, my student?” 

Genji nodded, “Very nearly. We’re just waiting for the final word before we move out.” He hesitated, “You are sure you wish to be here?”

Zenyatta nodded, certain. He had been fully inducted into the slowly growing reformed Overwatch organization nearly a year ago, but he tended to do far less field work than many of the operatives. That had been changing of late, and this assignment in particular—“With so many Omnic lives at stake I would not wish to be on the sidelines for this.”

Genji huffed, but nodded, “Stubborn,” He accused without anger. “You can be so very stubborn, Master.”

“I believe it is a habit I acquired from you, my dearest,” Zenyatta pointed out, laughing, hoping to lighten the cyborg’s apprehension.

As desired, Genji chuckled, “Oh no. You do not get to pin that on me. You will be careful?”

“I will,” Zenyatta agreed, “But I feel much more secure knowing you will have my back, as well as the rest of the team.”

“I will keep you safe,” Genji murmured, leaning down, resting his head guard against Zenyatta’s crown. He would not remove his visor, not here and now where anyone may walk in to find them, but Zenyatta recognized the gesture for what it meant— _I would kiss you, if I could._

Zenyatta simply hummed and wrapped his arms around Genji’s waist and dragged him closer. The ninja made a soft, startled sound but went eagerly, shifting to press close, straddling the slight Omnic’s lap, legs on either side of the slim waist, his larger form settling over his slender master’s. “You be careful as well, my dearest,” Zenyatta murmured. “I cannot ask you not to take risks considering the nature of this work, but please,” His hands came up and framed Genji’s face, “Do not come to harm beyond what I can heal.”

“Master,” Genji murmured, arms going around Zenyatta’s shoulders, and Zenyatta pressed a hand over the center of Genji’s chest.

\--

“You were… _you_ were _my_ student,” Zenyatta murmured, sort of wondering, “And we… We were in love?”

Genji shifted, tense, his entire focus on the Omnic, “I still am,” he murmured softly. He would never lie to Zenyatta. Not about this. “Very much so.”

“You are?” Zenyatta said, soft and wondering and so full of _hope_ and yet something subdued him. He was quiet a moment, “You looked so different then, Master,” the title slipped from his voice box almost unconsciously, a force of habit. “Your lights were green, not gold.”

“That’s right. Back… before. They were originally green.”

“How did—?”

“Please,” Genji interrupted him, voice soft, “Please keep going.”

Zenyatta nodded slowly, “Your brother came in at that point.”

\--

“Do the two of you never stop?” Hanzo grumbled, averting his eyes politely. He was dressed in his combat gear, his Storm Bow and quiver around his shoulders, electronic boots already donned. “I do not want to _see_ that, I thought you were preparing to go.”

Genji chuckled and pulled back from Zenyatta but didn’t dismount his lap, “Just getting ready in our own way.”

Hanzo nodded, mouth tight. The healing between brothers had been a difficult one, but ultimately worthwhile, finally settling into a place that resembled equilibrium and stability. Zenyatta knew the elder Shimada didn’t harbor any ill-feeling about his brother’s relationship with an Omnic, if perhaps a bit of nebulous envy that he had found such a steady companion. Zenyatta had noticed the elder Shimada’s continued, confused dance around McCree for some time, perhaps when this was all over he could see about offering a nudge. “Well you had better wrap it up. It’s time, the team is forming, we need to get to the forward point. Talon has finally showed its face, and they are already moving.”`

Genji finally slipped off Zenyatta’s lap and the Omnic stood. Zenyatta was not built well for physical expenditures and efforts, and in battle he was far more formidable when relying on his Omnic energy for movement as well as offense and healing. But for now he conserved his energy and followed the two brothers on foot. 

They exited the rear door of the safe house, tucked into an alley corner and headed up a fire escape left down for this very reason. Hanzo scaled up like a gecko, and though Genji could easily match he went slower, waiting and helping Zenyatta climb up the series of ladders and stairs. Though the Omnic did not tire, it was a little bit less sure going than the ninja had.

King’s Row was dark and dreary around them, the night passing slowly like a lingering dream, the rain spitting on and off as the hours passed reluctantly. A streetlamp on the cobbled road flickered and Genji dimmed his running lights to nothing, going nearly unseen unless you knew to look for him. 

They reached the roof where Hanzo was talking with Winston, the large scientist back away from the precipice, looking over a tablet screen with a frown on his face, speaking with someone in his ear, likely the other two members of the team: Tracer and D.Va. Standing next to him, Hanzo looked concerned as well, his normally stern face drawn even tighter at what the gorilla was saying. 

“Is everything alright?” Genji asked as they approached, picking up on the line of tension as well.

Winston and Hanzo looked over at them, Hanzo’s eyes flicking between Genji and Zenyatta and the gorilla sighed, “We have a problem.”

“Do we?” Genji asked, voice controlled, his stance shifting ever-so-slightly towards Zenyatta.

“Our intel was wrong,” Winston said with a sigh, “Please tune into the Overwatch secure channel. Tracer just managed to get a closer look at the convoy moving the payload, it’s not a bomb,” he chewed his lip, sharp canines worrying the skin; “It’s an EMP device.”

Genji stiffened and swore softly in Japanese, his hands clenching and unclenching.

“We’ve already radioed team two and had them refocus their evacuation efforts on the Omnic quarter,” Winston plowed on hastily, “Since we don’t have to worry about evacuating human residences it should ensure we get more Omnics to safety and we’ll have more time before Talon realizes they’ve been discovered.”

Zenyatta was quiet a moment and tilted his head, “I suppose this should not come as a surprise, considering the target of this attack.”

Winston and Hanzo blinked at him in confusion and even Genji turned to stare, “Is that… all you have to say about it?” Winston wondered. “You’re the most at risk.”

Zenyatta hummed and activated his internal radio transmitter, something Overwatch had installed expressly for this purpose since he couldn’t wear a comm, “I am at greater risk from a detonation than most of you, yes, but I would have dealt with the same degree of hazard had this been a bomb as originally thought.” He folded his hands before him, orbs just beginning to light as his energy focused. 

“I do not like this, Master,” Genji murmured a touch fretfully, but he did not say what Zenyatta knew he wanted to. _I would feel better if you were safe_.

“You are at some risk as well, my student,” Zenyatta pointed out, “Your cybernetics would be offlined until repaired from such a pulse, as would Tracer’s accelerator and D.Va’s MEKA.”

_"Winston can fix me right up!”_ Tracer’s broadcast came in over the comm channel.

_“And I can be pretty dangerous even without my bunny,”_ D.Va chimed in, and Zenyatta turned and glanced at the roofs on the skyline, finding the crouched form of the Korean pilot’s mech, ready to deploy, mostly hidden in shadow, invisible from the street below. 

“Both points are true,” Zenyatta allowed, “But mine is as well. I am not the only member at risk.”

“But you’re the only one that such a blast would kill,” Winston said solemnly and Genji made an involuntary sound. 

“That is good,” Zenyatta said simply, “A bomb could have potentially killed us all and many more around us. We do not have time to call for a replacement, and the field team will require medical support. I am needed here. This was never a job without risk. I am prepared to accept it.” Zenyatta bowed his head a bit, “I will do all I can to keep it from reaching its destination in the Omnic quarter.”

“We will just have to stop it before it detonates then,” Hanzo said, voice surprisingly firm and nodded to the monk.

Genji seemed surprised by his brother’s words and jerked his head in agreement, his own exuberant determination sparking. “You are right.”

_“Mission’s still the same, lads and ladies!”_ Tracer chirped.

_“Let’s kick some ass!”_ D.Va crowed.

“I should be able to deprogram the EMP device, if we can get the agents away from it,” Winston said, “Even though the intel was wrong.”

_“Why is it called an EMP anyway? Shouldn’t it be called an Emp?”_ D.Va came over the radio, teasing the scientist.

“Because that’s not how you say it,” He huffed. 

_“It could be! We could let the fans decide.”_

“No, that’s not how you say it, the end,” He denied.

_“Not very democratic,”_ She laughed.

“Being right isn’t a democracy, and Hana, you better not be streaming,” Winston said, voice firm.

_“Hey! Call signs in the field!”_ She argued, _“And no, duh, I’m not that desperate for attention, I don’t care what 76 says.”_

“I didn’t say you were, I just—“

_“And where does he get off anyway, giving me a hard time about—“_

“D.Va.” Winston interrupted, “Mission now, we can gossip about Commander Morrison later.”

_“Ugh, fine. Killjoy.”_

_“Got eyes on the target,”_ Tracer cut in, _“Payload’s movin’. Armed guard, looks like about four of ‘em on the transport itself and I count—“_ a whirr as she blinked, _“—another two bringing up the rear and three ahead on point. All I can see but they might’ve got a few waiting somewhere.”_

“If it was that Talon sniper we’d be under fire already,” Hanzo pointed out, bringing the bow off his shoulder.

_“Doesn’t mean they haven’t got more surprises for us,”_ D.Va chimed in, _“What’s the call, Winston?”_

“Genji and Tracer, take out the hind team first, quiet as you can. Keep in mind as soon as they go down we’re on a time limit until they try and check in again. Maybe a minute if we’re lucky. D.Va, wait at the chokepoint. Hanzo, take nest six, get ready, I’ll be at the bottleneck on street four and will flush what I can your way. Hopefully we can get them off the payload. Zenyatta, go with Hanzo, it should give you a vantage to see D.Va and myself from the ground. Tracer and Genji, remember that if you’re under fire and suffering damage don’t forget to make yourself visible to Zenyatta, but not at higher risk to your health. Use your judgment.”

Winston called orders with a decisive surety that he’d cultivated only in the years since Overwatch’s recall. The reinstated Commander Morrison couldn’t lead every team from the field and the scientist had stepped up to help lead missions and direct offensives and coordinate operatives.

No one was sure how long he was going to live, well approaching the end of an ordinary gorilla’s life span and still going strong, but it seemed likely that Winston may take over the role of Strike Commander from the aging Jack Morrison if they could get him to retire and pry Overwatch from him without it being from his cold, dead hands.

Genji reached over and squeezed Zenyatta’s hand one last time and took off to meet Tracer over the rooftops. Zenyatta spotted a brief flare of the boosters from D.Va’s MEKA. Winston hefted his Tesla cannon and tensed and jumped, his own rockets pulsing to carry him over the next line of buildings. 

Hanzo waited a moment, Zenyatta’s energy flaring and settling into a comfortable hover and the followed the archer over the next set of roofs to find the lookout position they’d set ahead of time. 

Nest six was perched on the balcony of an abandoned building. None of the lamps illuminated it, comfortably hidden in shadow with an excellent vantage of the streets below. Zenyatta dimmed the glow of his orbs and his array by force of will and set his feet down, keeping his energy dampened. Hanzo drew and nocked an arrow, sharp eyes on the narrow alleys below. 

From the balcony Zenyatta could see D.Va, her MEKA crouched down, hiding out of sight in the bend of an alley. Talon had to head that way to reach the Omnic quarter on the path they’d chosen. Risky, but it would be less traveled and less-easily seen—had Overwatch not intercepted their coded transmissions, anyway.

Winston waited around the corner of a cross street, backed out of sight. As soon as the payload passed he could charge into the fray and help funnel them in the heat of combat toward D.Va and Hanzo.

_“Hind team is down,”_ Genji’s accented English came over the comm, _“Silent, we have not tipped them off, make your move.”_

_“Move up, wait till combat starts then help push them towards D.Va,”_ Winston ordered. _“Hanzo, can you get eyes on the payload? It should be around street three.”_

Hanzo let fly the sonic arrow he’d readied, gaze flickering as the small cybernetic optic augments picked up the movement of the echolocation chip that was embedded in the arrow’s tip. “Still moving steadily, they do not appear to have been tipped off yet. I count only three on the payload, one is unaccounted for. Be aware.”

_“D.Va is still holding,”_ The Korean pilot groused, impatient but not about to move without orders. She was impulsive, but learned her lessons quickly. She’d wait till discovered or signaled. 

Zenyatta reached out with a brief pulse of energy, feeling the sensations in the universe around him. He had careful awareness of all the team within range—he was unable to sense Genji or Tracer and remained calm, carefully so, likely they were just out his range—and found the location of swirling discord in his awareness around a hum of discordance, likely the device. Still far enough away. He charged a pulse in his palm, golden power collecting at his will and tossed it to D.Va, offering her the healing touch of harmony preemptively in case she was discovered or charged in. 

He felt the air hang heavy with promise for a moment and readied himself, sensing the storm about to hit. The payload and its armed and armored escort stepped into his line of sight, and he saw one man with his hand to his ear, gesturing, agitated. Likely the absence of the guards at the back was finally noted.

A roar shook the streets as Winston leapt in, four hundred pounds crashing down, Tesla cannon discharging lightning in wild arcs around him. The talon agents cried out and their weapons came up, firing heavily at Winston. The scientist dropped his shield, the barrier over-bright in the dark streets. 

Hanzo nocked and let fly a scatter arrow, but their enemies’ armor flickered, some kind of energy absorbing the damage from the archer’s shots. He swore softly, a regular arrow slipping into his bowstring, ready to loose, “They have some kind of shielding, be prepared for them to eat some of your fire.”

Gunfire erupted from the front, pummeling into Winston’s shield, three hidden Talon agents coming in from cover.

_“They had hidden numbers, watch for others, need back up!”_ Winston called.

_“Ha! Gotcha!”_ D.Va’s MEKA boosted forward, nearly smashing into one of the gunmen and her defense matrix blinked to life, shooting the oncoming spray of projectiles right out of the air. _“Mow ‘em down!”_ Her fusion cannons pumped out a constant spray of fire, the Rabbit Mech taking slow steps forward and the Talon agents scrambled for cover, trying to get out of the barrage. 

Zenyatta took the moment to throw a harmony orb at Winston, feeling his vitality rejuvenate through the connection of his energy. In his other hand violet power charged and he hurled it at the closest Talon agent, feeling his discord roil and stir, slowing thoughts and movements, making him vulnerable. 

A flicker of blue over the rooftop caught his attention for a split second as Tracer blinked rapidly, heading behind D.Va to head off the forward scouts who were likely about to hit them from behind. Genji suddenly landed on to balcony next to Zenyatta and swooped in to press faceguard to faceplate together in the masked semblance of a kiss. Hanzo swore softly as the cyborg took him by surprise, muttering that Genji shouldn’t sneak up on his own team and needed to take this more seriously—

“Be right back,” Genji murmured cheekily to Zenyatta and then leapt off the balcony to chase after Tracer and was gone.

“I am not sure which of you is the worse influence,” Hanzo grumbled and took another two quick fire shots with the Storm Bow. 

White smoke erupted on the street below, filling the tight alleys with caustic vapor. A flickering red pulse and high-pitched beeping and D.Va called out in a frantic broadcast, _“They stuck me with a pulse mine! MEKA’s compromised—“_ five talon agents suddenly dashed from the cover of the smoke, Hanzo sniping one with a shot, _“—Oh no you don’t!”_ D.Va’s MEKA boosted down the street and she ejected, letting its rockets carry the rabbit on a collision course, _“Bunny’s going down! Get in cover! You wanted to blow her up? Nerf this you fucking dick weasels!”_ The mech’s form went unstable, the mine exploding on its hull but it was too late, and it finally detonated in a pulse of raw energy. 

“Back!” Hanzo and Zenyatta flattened against the wall, out of the line of fire from the detonation, the dome of Winston’s shield dropping again to protect the scientist from the blast.

_“More warning next time!”_

_“Didn’t have any!”_ D.Va charged forward, her light gun flashing as she pumped out fire down the alley, two of talon ops managing to shelter from the blast, _“Two hostiles remain! Don’t just stand there, get ‘em!”_ Though originally trained to combat Omnic foes, D.Va was just as willing to fight human targets, the fearsome girl able to take to tactics and combat like a fish to water. 

_“I’m pursuing!”_ Winston called and leapt out, taking off after them down the narrow streets. 

_“The forward team is down, but they didn’t go quietly.”_ Tracer called over the comm, _“Genji has sustained an injury, puncture wound to the right leg, we’re making our way back now.”_

Hanzo leapt from the balcony to the street below, bow out and drawn, moving up to join D.Va around the idle form of the vacated payload. Zenyatta watched, sensing something amiss, “The sense of dissonance I feel from the device is stronger now, is something wrong with it?” 

_“I don’t know, I’m not—Uh, Hanzo? Is that thing that looks like a grenade supposed to be flashing like that?”_

A series of Japanese expletives burst over the comms as Hanzo reached out and tried to grab D.Va to get her away and the ping grew shrill and scattered, _“It’s—“_

Zenyatta dropped down from the balcony and reached for the Iris, Transcending mid-air and enveloping the two in a golden halo of tranquility. His six golden arms spread wide and his orbs shone brilliantly, landing between his team and the explosive, this one dark pocket of King’s Row lit as though in sudden midday sun. The stuck grenade detonated sending a shock of fire and shrapnel around them, but the touch of the Iris kept them protected as Zenyatta’s invulnerable form took most of the blast.

It was over in an instant, the glow of Transcendence lingering for a few lasting seconds before fading as Zenyatta settled back into his floating lotus position. 

“Beautiful, Master,” Genji’s voice came through and Zenyatta turned to find Tracer helping the wounded cyborg over. He was largely walking under his own power, but one leg was clearly limping and bright emerald liquid was leaking from a clear wound in his cybernetics, one arm slung around the slim Brit’s shoulders and she was clearly struggling with his augmented weight. 

“You are both so sweet to one another, it’s adorable, but holy shit, someone please take him, he weighs an absolute ton,” She complained. 

“Not a ton,” Genji whined and Hanzo went and took him from her, grumbling a bit himself.

“I think she’s right. If not exactly then pretty close. Did Dr. Ziegler use bricks?”

Genji said something rude to him in Japanese and the corner of Hanzo’s mouth quirked. 

“I’m gonna go help Winston, you four keep the payload secure,” Tracer directed, “I’ll radio team two and keep them apprised.” In a flicker of blue she was gone. 

“I wish you’d take more care with yourself, my student,” Zenyatta murmured, offering the strongest orb of Harmony he could provide to Genji, but the healing it offered was gradual and slow. “Sometimes I think you put yourself at risk just so that I will indulge you.”

“That is ridiculous,” Genji denied, “You weren’t even there to see it.” 

“The two of you are what is ridiculous,” Hanzo said, rolling his eyes, sliding his bow across his shoulders and adjusting his grip on his brother, affecting the disgusted elder sibling, but amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“Hey, uh, guys?” D.Va said.

“You are just jealous,” Genji asserted, the orb of Harmony boosting his mood a little.

“I am not jealous of your robot,” Hanzo said with an eye roll.

“Guys,” D.Va said again.

“No, that is true, he doesn’t have a stupid hat and wear a serape that probably hasn’t been washed in—“

“ _Genji_ ,” Hanzo growled, “I am not above dropping you—“

“ _Guys!_ ” D.Va shouted, patience at an end, a slightly frantic look to her, “Seriously, I’m glad you’ve made up and gotten in touch with your long overdue weird bickering siblings bond, but there is something fucking wrong with this thing.” She gestured a bit wildly at the payload on the bed of the hovertruck. The EMP device. 

There was a moment of silence.

“Wrong with it how?” Hanzo asked warily. 

D.Va swallowed, pale, “It’s got a timer, counting down.” She looked at them, mouth working a bit, “I hit the cancel timer toggle and nothing happened. It’s still going. I don’t know what to do.”

“It is damaged from the grenade and likely the fire from the fight,” Zenyatta murmured, maintaining calm, gesturing to part of the electronic casing that was badly mangled. 

“Th-that can’t be,” Genji said, stark disbelief in his tone and Hanzo eased him against the payload to jump up next to D.Va. 

The Archer’s stoicism was legendary, but his eyes widened faintly. He reached out, trying to do something with the display and when nothing happened he snarled and hit it with his fist. His throat bobbed again and he stepped away. “We need. We—“ he looked shaken, “Go, we need to go, right now, we have to get him—“

“Winston you copy?” D.Va called into the comm. No response. “Where the hell is Winston?” She snarled, “Tracer, the EMP thing is busted, its ticking and we can’t shut it off, where the fuck is Winston, he was here to disable the bomb if something happened—“

_“Winston’s down,”_ Tracer’s reply came back, her voice grim. “He’s alive but he’s out of commission, out cold, they hit him with some sort of knockout gas. I can’t… I can’t wake him!” Her voice was scared, _“You have to get Zenyatta out of there! I can’t move him or do anything until evac! What’s the timer say?”_

D.Va swore in Korean and when she answered she was looking straight at Zenyatta, “Forty-five seconds.”

“And it was built big enough to take out a whole district,” Hanzo snarled, hands fisting.

_“Get him out!”_ Tracer called, frantic.

“No!” Genji lurched off the payload, standing shakily and grasped Zenyatta’s arms, “We have to go! We can’t—Let me,” he tried and hissed as he put weight on his wounded leg. “No. No, no, we have to be able to do _something_!” He swore, voice panicked and tight with fear, “I can’t run, I can’t carry him—“

“Bunny’s gone,” D.va whispered, “I can’t ferry him away from it.”

Zenyatta landed his feet on the ground and brought his hands up to gently hold Genji’s arms, “Hana, how far are we from the Omnic district?”

“Master, no—“ Genji shook his head wildly in denial, knowing his Master’s thought process, “Stop—“

“Just under two kilometers.”

Hanzo caught on, “Far enough that the Omnic homes won’t be affected.” He looked pale and scared, “We can try though, when you Transcend, you’re invulnerable and you’re faster, could you—“

“I am spiritually drained,” Zenyatta said, resignation creeping into his voice. “I cannot Transcend again, not enough to stay the physical ails of the world. Not in such a short amount of time.”

“Master, you’ve got to try, please,” Genji begged, hands tight on him, “Can we outrun it, we have to do something—“

“Genji,” He whispered, feeling a cold sense of acceptance settle over him, “You know it is futile.”

“Don’t give up,” Genji begged, and Zenyatta could hear the tears, his soul _hurting_ for his beloved student, “You can’t! You can’t give up and just die!” He tried again, lifting Zenyatta bodily and took a step before he leg gave out beneath him and then both fell to the ground, Genji snarling in pain and tears. 

“Genji!” Hanzo took a step and stopped.

Zenyatta leaned up and cupped Genji’s face gently between his hands. “Shh, Please, my dear. It is better this way. So many will live, we have done such a good thing this night. Do not regret it, please.”

“fifteen seconds,” D.Va whispered and tore off her headpiece and threw it on the ground, wiping tears from her eyes, “This is so fucking stupid,” She hit the machine again, a charging, static sound starting to build up in the coil within.

“It may still harm you, you should all move away. Serving with all of you was an honor, and I am glad I had the chance to meet you,” Zenyatta said quietly, but his face never turned from the cyborg.

“No,” Genji shook his head in denial, “No. No, Master. I love you, you can’t, _you can’t_. Not like this! You don’t give up! Not _you_!”

“Sometimes knowing one’s place in creation means accepting the misfortune that comes. The good and the bad move through existence like waves in an ocean, and sometimes you must weather the crashing surge. Everything has an end. I am at peace with this.”

“No,” Genji denied, shaking his head, voice trembling, “please no, I cannot lose everything again.” 

Zenyatta rested his head against Genji’s, “Oh, my dearest, _dearest_ love, you still have so much in your life. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. Know that I love you, and the only thing I could have wanted from my life was more time with you.” He whispered and could barely hear over the building sound of the device, “I wish I could have seen your lovely face one last time.”

In the last second before the detonation, Genji’s hands fisted, and everything in his soul rebelled and he said one word to the universe and meant it with all he had. His soul _reached—_

_“No.”_

\--

“The EMP device detonated,” Zenyatta’s narrative came to a halt, trailing off slowly, letting it hang in the air. “It discharged but you,” he faltered, grasping for words, his memory not quite together, “But, you, I remember you were—“ He faltered again and shook his head, reaching up to touch his crown again, as if dizzy.

“Tell me,” Genji insisted, voice quiet, “What did you see?”

“You looked—you were _golden_ , Master,” He murmured. “You were bright and golden, and there was a Dragon that roared as if all the heavens opened wide and bellowed their rebellion that encircled us, a dragon of emerald and ochre and you were ringed by a halo of _light_.”

Genji was quiet for a long moment, and his voice, when he spoke was solemn, “The one and only time I have ever achieved Transcendence and touched upon the Iris itself.” The words came slowly, across a great divide of memory and time, “You had taught me enough that I was able to reach for the Iris, even for a moment. When one touches the Halo of the Iris they have a perfect understanding of the universe and their place within it. Mine was with you. It will always be with _you_.”

Zenyatta seemed to look at him, and even without expression Genji could tell how lost and awed he was by turns. “And your green lights turned to gold.”

“Yes,” Genji nodded, and urged, “Keep going?”

Zenyatta tried, “I remember only fragments following the blast, online and offline by turns. I think I remember being evacuated. I remember being on a table and I think I remember Torbjörn trying to repair me. I remember you screaming and weeping. I remember a brief bit of awareness as we arrived at the temple, of you carrying me inside, but after that is where—where I think I truly woke up, where my next life began.” He looked at Genji, “How? How did I survive?”

“My Transcendence worked a bit like a faraday cage,” Genji murmured, “You were kept online, you _survived_ , but a great deal of your memories, your… your substance had been _wiped_ ,” His even tone finally broke and his voice wavered and he choked, emotion welling up like an aquifer bleeding into his throat. “We had the means to fully reactivate your body but you would not—not be the _same_. So I waited till we made it back here, and then I brought you back fully online.”

“You left Overwatch,” Zenyatta realized softly, “You left Overwatch to bring me back to Nepal, and you joined the Shambali to teach me. I was told who I was and who I’d been but you said nothing of _yourself_.”

“I wanted to give you back what you lost,” Genji whispered, voice raw and honest, “So we told you who you had been, about the Shambali order, that you had been… _hurt_. We told you everything except… except me, yes.”

“Why?” Zenyatta asked, voice even, betraying nothing yet. 

“Because I was _selfish_ ,” Genji said, “Because I wanted you _back_. I didn’t want—Zenyatta, if you’d known I was your student, your companion, your _lover_ … I didn’t want to shape you with that expectation. You were who you were without me first. You deserved to get that back, without my expectations and hopes and wants on your shoulders. I would not do that to you. You deserved better.” He shook his head, “You deserved so much better than all of this.”

“Genji,” He reached out, shifting closer, hand settling on Genji’s shoulder, the cyborg’s head bowed, “I was who I was _because_ of you. You had only ever known me after I had you in my life. How could you have thought you did not transform me as much as I had changed you?”

Genji looked up at him, his gold lights dim, “How much else do you remember? Other than… the last Overwatch mission?”

“I remember strange chunks, some years are nearly complete and others I have only fragments.” He sighed, “Some memories seem to be gone or corrupted entirely. I remember meeting you, so many years ago now. But I do not remember much of those early days.”

“I am sorry to hear that, Master,” Genji used the title hesitantly, asking as much as saying.

Zenyatta’s shoulder’s scrunched up a bit, the pistons puffing air, his body language practically bleeding the conflict he felt at the title, the calm monk bleeding into the uncertain student, both and neither. “It has been so long since you have called me that,” he said softly, “Even half-remembered, I am certain of it.”

“Is that wrong now?” Genji asked, unsure where they stood with one another, “What do you want?”

“I am not sure which is true or right,” Zenyatta admitted, a note of frustration to his voice, “I only wish things made sense, that _I_ made sense.”

Genji swallowed, lifting a hand to reach for him, and dropping it again, “Did I do wrong?” he asked, finally voicing the question that had lodged in his heart for years now, “Did I do wrong for you, bringing you here, trying to teach you? Was everything a mistake?”

Zenyatta seemed startled by the question and when he spoke there was a sudden vehemence to his voice, “Of _course_ not.”

Genji swallowed, heart in his throat but Zenyatta ploughed on.

“Because you _stayed_ ,” he was adamant, “You said you were selfish, but this is the most selfless thing you could have done for me. You did not take yourself into account at all, Genji. I could have left had I truly desired. But more than that, more than _anything_ , you _stayed_ with me. Even though I was not who you loved anymore,” His voice dimmed to a murmur, an aching, _familiar_ grief run through his words, “You stayed even though the Omnic you loved is gone.”

Genji reached out and pulled him close, needing to touch him, needing to feel Zenyatta again. Hold him in his arms and feel him, so bright and beautiful and alive. Holding him close like this, so similar to the comfort he offered after one of the Omnic’s memory dreams and yet so different. It felt like coming home. “The Omnic I love isn’t gone. He’s right here in my arms.”

“But I am so different now,” Zenyatta murmured, the uncertain student rising to the fore again, and then he seemed to release all the tension in his body and sagged against the cyborg, arms going around his neck and clinging, and Genji held him tighter, as though they were anchored together through all the misfortune in the world.

“No, you’re not, Zenyatta. You have proven over and over that you are still _you_.” He reached up, fingers brushing against his array, “And what about me? I am different now as well. Do you—“ His voice grew thick and he took a moment to swallow the lump of raw and wretched emotion in his throat, “Do you care for me less?” He feared the answer as much as he needed to hear it. Needed to _know_.

“No,” Zenyatta murmured, hands coming up to frame Genji’s face as he used to be so fond of doing, “No, I love you all the more, Genji. As though I could feel anything else for you. It feels inevitable; as though I was destined to love you however we found each other.”

Genji made a choked sound and held him all the tighter, facemask pressing tightly against the Omnic’s collar. “I love you, Zenyatta, so much. I have been so lost without you. I missed this. Missed having you with me like this.” He shook his head, “I wanted so much to be strong for you but I was so tired of carrying the weight of remembering.”

“Then let me take the burden from you,” Zenyatta whispered, “I have loved you always, however I knew you, I am so glad I do not have to fear being deeply in love with my own Master anymore.” 

Genji made a small sound and pressed tighter, larger body wrapping around the Omnic. “I know that fear very well.”

“I never did get my last request,” Zenyatta murmured.

“Your—?”

“Your face,” Zenyatta murmured, fingertips brushing against the facemask, “I remember I have seen it before, but I have not _seen_ it, Genji, please. Not since,” He whispered, as close as the Omnic had ever come to begging for anything. 

Genji laughed wetly and reached up and removed it for the first time in over three years, revealing his scarred face. He smile shook with feeling and tears tracked down his ravaged cheeks.

“Oh my dear,” Zenyatta said breathlessly, “You are so beautiful.”

Genji laughed, nearly sobbing, and pulled Zenyatta down for a soft, trembling kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last chapter, that's mostly an epilogue to tie it all off.
> 
> That will be posted Friday night.
> 
> For those who like music to go with their fic, this story was brought to you by Josh Groban's 'You're Still You' and Zack Hemsey's 'I Can Get it Back'


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short epilogue to cap things off.

Hanzo stopped his climb up the mountain trail and turned to frown and sigh at his companion, raising a single feathered eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re winded.”

McCree waved him off, but he was definitely breathing faster, “Don’t you start with me, the air is thinner up here. Of course I’m winded. I see that damn, judgin’ eyebrow a’ yers.”

Hanzo’s mouth flickered with a smile, ducking to hide the expression in the thick folds of the scarf around his neck to help protect from the Himalayan chill, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, cowboy.”

“Sure ya don’t,” McCree finally caught up, pushing a limp lock of hair out of his face, his normally springy hair plastered against his head by the cold sweat brought about by thick layers in cold air. He whistled, catching sight of the terrace at the top of the path, “Man this place looks incredible. Never loses the awe no matter how many times I see it.”

Hanzo nodded, “It’s true,” he said, looking at the statuary and frowned, “What happened here?” Some of the huge stone Omnics looked recently repaired, and some still had huge chunks of stone missing, as though smashed by some incredible force. 

McCree frowned, spotting the damage as well. “Well I don’t rightly know. Have to ask Genji when we get there. Hopefully they’re all okay.”

“My brother would’ve contacted me if trouble was really so dire,” Hanzo said, but wasn’t as confident about that as he would’ve liked. Genji had withdrawn quite a bit after the incident.

“No use wonderin’ while we’re standin’ outside,” McCree shrugged, “Let’s get in, I’m freezin’ my trigger finger off.”

“Anything to make it less itchy,” Hanzo rolled his eyes.

“Yer so kind,” McCree snarked back, but his mouth had a laughing, wry twist to it.

Hanzo smiled, “Thank you for coming with me, Jesse. I do not believe I said it before. It is always more bearable with company than coming here alone.”

McCree scratched the back of his neck, “Shoot, it ain’t nothin’. I get it, memories might drown ya.”

“I am always glad to make the trip here. Being on good terms with Genji again is a priceless gift, but it can be… hard. Seeing him—seeing _them_ —the way they are now.”

“Course. Don’ I know it. Was hard seein’ Zen in those weeks ‘fore Genji took ‘im an’ left. S’hard seein’ em every time I come back here. Can’t imagine it’ll be any easier this time, but damn am I lookin’ forward to it. I missed ‘em somethin’ fierce. Even if I can’t get Zen to quit callin’ me _Mr. McCree_ now.”

Hanzo nodded, chuckling, not very fond of being _Mr. Shimada_ either, “You had to work so hard to break him of it the first time, now you have to do it all over again.” He sighed, “He is always the same in some ways, and so different in others. I always think I am prepared to deal with Zenyatta but every time… it is harder than I think it will be.”

“Hard don’ mean it ain’t worth doin’,” The American shrugged, “Lets get it over with. No use standing here and it’s still fuckin’ cold.”

They approached the entrance, McCree gawking at the temple exterior as he always did, Hanzo’s eyes on the goal of the door. They were halfway down the terrace when a figure appeared in the entryway and Hanzo stopped short, eyes going wide, his breath freezing like ice in his lungs. “Jesse,” He breathed, “Look there.”

“Hmm?” McCree’s attention turned and Hanzo felt him still at his side. “Am I seein’ things?”

“If you are it is a shared delusion,” the archer murmured.

A living memory stepped from within the temple. 

Zenyatta strode towards them, dressed in the white Shambali kasaya, nine gold orbs orbiting slowly around his torso, hands folded in front of them. He came down the steps slowly until he stood before them, and Hanzo could not for the life of him move an inch.

“Zenyatta?” He began hesitantly, because _the orbs_.

The Omnic bowed to them, “It is good to see you again, Hanzo, Jesse. Genji is still with a class of students, but he will be able to join us when the class has concluded.”

A grin had slowly split McCree’s face and Hanzo _could not stop staring_ because it had been three years since they’d been anything but _Mr. Shimada_ and Mr. McCree. Without warning the cowboy pitched forward and hugged the slim Omnic tightly. 

Zenyatta made a startled sound but rested his hands lightly around Jesse’s back, letting the large American man hug it out. “Goddamn you stupid metal asshole,” He said, voice a telltale touch rough, “If you don’t actually remember me don’t tell me, just lie to me. Jesus Christ.”

Zenyatta chuckled softly, “I remember some things better than others. I remember enough that I nearly didn’t recognize you without your hat.”

McCree laughed and pulled back, swiping the back of a gloved hand over one of his eyes, “It kept blowin’ off. Hanzo made me put it in the bag.”

“Better you don’t wear it in this wind than I have to listen to you moan about losing it,” Hanzo said and stepped forward to bow more politely to Zenyatta, “But he is right. It is good to see you, always, but better to see you like this.”

Zenyatta bowed back, “Thank you, Hanzo. It is good to be seen.”

“What happened?” McCree blurted, impulsive as always, “What changed?”

Zenyatta turned and beckoned, “I would be glad to tell you, but I am sure your tolerance for the Himalayan cold is nearly finished. Come in, please. You can warm up and have some tea while I explain.”

\--

Hanzo blew across his Darjeeling tea slowly, recognizing it by scent as Genji’s favorite, sitting next to McCree who tried for a sip and swore as it burned it tongue. Zenyatta chuckled and let gold energy coalesce in his hand before tossing it to the American lightly, his orbs flashing in response. “So yer really back then?” The cowboy asked, hesitant of the answer.

“As much as one can be ‘back’ in their own life,” Zenyatta said gently.

“Restored then,” Hanzo amended for him. 

“In some ways,” Zenyatta agreed, “But there is much I still do not recall,” he said sadly, “Much I may always be missing.”

“You got us back,” McCree said, reaching up to try and touch the orb, fingers passing through as though no more than a ray of sunlight, “Did you get Overwatch back?”

“Most of it, I think,” Zenyatta said hesitantly, “I remember the two of you, and most of the operatives I dealt with commonly, but I do not recall some things, some glaring omissions in my life. I do not remember the first mission I did on behalf of Overwatch, nor do I remember most of them in the moment. I remember the aftermath of many, tending wounds and assuaging worries.”

“How did it happen?” Hanzo couldn’t contain the question a moment longer, “Genji tried so hard for so long to help you, how did this finally happen?”

“He and others were in great danger, and I managed to achieve Transcendence, in no small part thanks to his teaching,” he said softly, “And it was as though I was living in a dark room that was suddenly illuminated. Many memories came to light, so to speak, but there are many yet…” He sighed softly, “I do not remember meeting you,” he admitted, “I do not remember taking the picture of you and Genji a few years ago that he keeps in his room.” His head bowed and he said softly, voice heavy, “I do not remember my own teacher, my own _brother_ , I do not remember Mondatta.”

He reached up and touched a hand to his crown as though his head ached and Hanzo and McCree exchanged a glance, “It is alright,” The archer assuaged, “As long as you know that you were missed and that we care, it is more than we could ever ask for.”

Zenyatta nodded, “One day, perhaps I will be able to put everything into its place, but please have patience with me.”

Hanzo smiled and risked a sip of the hot tea, “In this at least, I think we are all agreed. You are worth waiting for.”

\--

Genji came in some time later to find them telling Zenyatta of a particular mission he didn’t recall, one gone hilariously wrong, which had been against Talon Forces in Western Russia and gone south quickly, only ending when Ana had lost her patience with the entire team and ran over to jab a Nano-stimulant directly into McCree’s neck and pushed him off a roof telling him to ‘quit being a baby’ and to ‘get in there.’

McCree had wiped out the enemy forces in a deadly show of precision and force and then immediately passed out in the middle of the smoldering battlefield. 

McCree was groaning through Hanzo’s retelling and Zenyatta’s soft laughter when Genji stepped in, took one look at his brother’s smug, laughing face, and said, “Ah, but what Hanzo has not told either of you was that he carried McCree off the battlefield himself and held him the entire ride during Evac.”

Hanzo sputtered and flushed red and McCree blinked and whipped around to look at Hanzo wide-eyed and grinning, “That true?”

“Why did I _miss_ you?” Hanzo hissed at his brother.

Genji laughed at him, but the sound was so free and easy for the first time in so long that Hanzo didn’t even really begrudge him.

\--

Hanzo stood on an overlook next to Genji, the two of them leaning on the stone wall and looking out at the terrace. McCree and Zenyatta had gone out to shovel some of the snow clear in a poorly-disguised attempt to give the two brothers a moment together. 

“Will you return to Overwatch?” Hanzo asked him.

“That is something I need to talk to Zenyatta about, something I have been putting off,” Genji replied. “The thought of it frightens me, walking back into that world seems to be asking for more tragedy. But even when he couldn’t remember, Zenyatta wanted to leave the Monastery and go out to help the world.”

Hanzo snorted, “Of course he did.”

“Right?” Genji huffed and crossed his arms, shaking his head.

“Leaving the Monastery doesn’t mean you have to return to Overwatch,” Hanzo pointed out. “Though I know we would be glad to have you both.”

“I do not miss the risk and the danger,” Genji began, “But I do miss the people. The closeness of the team.”

Hanzo smiled, watching as Zenyatta waved to a group of children who’d wandered up from the village, bringing a few things for the monks that came in with the latest supply wagon. McCree hollered something at them and they all swarmed at him suddenly. “Even if you do not rejoin as an operative, you should consider coming back for Jack’s retirement party next year.”

Genji snorted, “Jack’s retiring? I’ll believe that when I see it.” 

“Whether or not he’ll stay retired remains to be seen, but he’ll be officially stepping down as Strike Commander and Winston will be taking his position. It would probably mean a lot for them to see the two of you, one way or another.”

“And Morrsion would probably appreciate someone making more of a spectacle than him at his own retirement party,” Genji guessed.

Hanzo snorted and then grinned watching as things on the terrace below devolved into a snowball fight and McCree was ganged up on. “He probably would.”

Genji sighed, “Zenyatta will likely want to see everyone as well. I have a feeling we’ll be back in Overwatch’s pockets soon enough.”

“Will you be alright with that?” Hanzo asked softly.

“No,” Genji admitted quietly. “I just got him back, the thought of losing him for good—“ He cut off, head bowing, “I’m not that strong, Hanzo.”

Hanzo reached over, hesitated, and then squeezed his shoulder, “No use upsetting yourself over something that is only a possibility.”

Genji laughed softly, “It sounds like something Zenyatta would say.”

Hanzo smiled faintly, “It does. But do you know what?” He nudged Genji’s shoulder with his own, “It was something I heard from you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading!
> 
> This sad little journey is over and the ending is bittersweet. I hope it was enjoyable, even if sad.
> 
> I have no plans to revisit this story, except perhaps maybe sometime I'll write some sweet, affirming, reuniting porn. I uh, do like my porn, there was just no place for it, sadly. We'll see.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates planned every three days. Next post will be Saturday night.


End file.
